


To Brathia

by poppetawoppet



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-23
Updated: 2009-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppetawoppet/pseuds/poppetawoppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Bridge to Terabithia AU.</p><p>Special thanks to<span><a href="http://bubby-wubby.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://bubby-wubby.livejournal.com/"><b>bubby_wubby</b></a></span>and<span><a href="http://kirabella1588.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://kirabella1588.livejournal.com/"><b>kirabella1588</b></a></span></p>
            </blockquote>





	To Brathia

**One:** Kristopher Neil Allen

Once he heard the rumble of his Father’s truck leave the driveway, Kris knew it was time to get up. He had precious few moments to practice running before all of his other chores in the morning. And being the oldest, he was the responsible one. He hated it. Daniel was old enough for some chores, but Allison was too young for anything. Kris sometimes resented her, because she followed him everywhere. Which is why he got up at the crack of dawn to run.

Living in the middle of nowhere was quiet, but there wasn’t much to do at school during recess. Except run. At least for the boys in the seventh grade. Kris was determined to be the winner of no less than one race a month. He was shorter than all the other boys, so he had been practicing all summer. Matt Giraud had a big surprise coming to him, because Kristopher Neil Allen was going to be a champion.

Kris thought of running like he thought of music: it was his one escape from the normalcy, the tedium of every day: get up, do chores, go to school, come home, do homework, do more chores, go to bed. Repeat. Add in a boring brother and an annoying little sister who followed you everywhere and well…. Kris nodded to the cows as he lined up, and shouted a silent bang in his head. He was by no means a graceful runner, his legs pumping wildly, his face red, but he could _move_.

It was Saturday and Kris was expected to help around the house. His daddy had to work hard, and his momma had enough trouble doing all the housework and watching the babies. Kris hated being included in that term, but that's what he was. While he was outside emptying the trash he noted the moving van outside the old Stevens place. Kris briefly wondered if they had anyone his age, but scurried back in at the sound of his mother’s voice.

 **Two:** Adam Lambert

Allison was the most excited about the new neighbors.

“Maybe then I could have someone who understands me!”

“You’re five,” Kris retorted, “Of course no one understands you.”

She pouted, her lower lip trembling, but Kris gave her one of his famous side hugs, and she smiled up at him, her whole face alight, and Kris couldn’t help but love her. Since dinner was done he actually had free time, so he snuck into the room he shared with Daniel and pulled out the battered guitar he had spent last summer mowing lawns to own. He strummed softly, so as not to annoy his mom too much.

If there was one thing Kris loved more than anything else it was music. He loved exploring all its possibilities, deconstructing songs down to the bare minimum and building them into something new. If he had thought about it, he was a lot like his dad, except that he worked with notes instead of wood. Sometimes he would get into trouble at school, because his teachers would find him humming, or scribbling down a melody. They’d tell him he needed to focus, that if he focused he might be a better student. The only one who really understood him was Miss Clarkson.

Miss Clarkson taught Music Appreciation on Fridays, and she was the exact opposite of every kind of music Kris had grown up on. She wore funky earrings, laughed at stupid jokes, and her voice… Kris regularly admitted he had a crush on her, but he wasn’t sure if it was her voice or the way her eyes would connect with his during class and instantaneously understand him.

It was Music Appreciation where he learned about the Beatles, where he absorbed all the music he could, because if his dad caught him listening to some of that stuff at home… But like Miss Clarkson said: it didn’t matter if it was Mozart or Metallica or Eminem, music was music, and there was something to find in every kind out there.

One day she had caught him singing one of his own melodies, and tilted her head,small smile on her face. “You are a quiet storm, Kris Allen, did you know that?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Miss Clarkson” he had mumbled, his face pink.

She laughed. “Just keep doing what you are doing. Don’t you ever let anyone else tell you that you shouldn’t be making music.”

Except that’s exactly what his dad said, saying he was wasting his time with something that would get him nowhere. But the music was in him. Kris couldn’t explain it, not even to Allison, who understood him more than a five year old should. When his dad came home, tired, dusty, he mumbled something about chores to Kris. And said nothing more all night.

The next morning he went to practice again and saw a tall lanky boy leaning against the fence as soon as he was done. The new neighbor. He had shaggy black hair, wore a t-shirt and jeans, and Kris could have sworn he was wearing nail polish.

“Hey,” the new kid said, “We just moved in.”

Kris stood, saying nothing. That voice. He wondered absentmindedly if this new kid could sing.

“I was wondering if there was anyone else here around my age. I guess you're it.”

Kris nodded slowly.

“I’m Adam Lambert.”

Kris shrugged. “Kris Allen.” He jumped over the fence, gave Adam’s hand a quick shake—definitely nail polish—and started to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got chores.”

 **Three:** Race Day

Kris didn’t see Adam until school, when he walked into Miss Abdul's classroom wearing jeans, a t-shirt, leather boots, nail polish and eyeliner. Kris was certain Clear Creek Middle School had never seen anyone quite like Adam Lambert. He was also certain that Adam didn’t care. They had to squeeze him into a corner, as Miss Abdul’s classroom was already tight.

Matt Giraud gave Kris a look, and he nodded once. Matt grinned, but Kris had a feeling he wouldn’t be later. He listened half heartedly to Miss Abdul as she gave her famous inspirational start of year speech. Kris was in the middle of writing a series of songs that he had decided to write about Allison, was trying to figure out words to describe her hair, when Matt peeked over his shoulder, whispering the words aloud.

“I know somewhere inside you/there’s something bursting to get out/I—Hey let me-“

Kris elbowed him back into his seat, earning a word of warning from Miss Abdul. He kept his mouth shut so tightly, if should have been bleeding.

Later, he watched as Adam sat in the corner of the lunchroom, ignoring the looks as he pulled out a strange looking sandwich. Kris didn’t care what the hell anyone ate, he was concentrating on recess.

After much commotion, Kris sat in the grass as Matt sorted the seventh and sixth grade boys into groups of fours to race. Kris was in the fourth heat. His heart was beating wildly, but he kept his face calm. He assessed his competition in his heat, fairly certain he could easily make it to the final run. Matt was running—and winning—the first heat when Kris heard someone sit next to him.

“Hey.”

He looked at Adam. “Uh, hi.”

“Is this what you do every day?” Adam asked, looking curiously as four boys flew by.

“Pretty much.”

Kris turned and watched the next heat intently, not really trying to ignore Adam, just to focus on the race. Matt was arguing with Danny Gokey, who insisted he had tied for the third heat.

“Jeez, Matt," Kris spoke up, "just let Danny and David run in the finals.”

Matt turned to him, scowling. “Sure. And while we’re at it, let’s have the fruit run, too.”

Kris shrugged, ignoring the shock of the entire seventh grade as Matt pointed at Adam and Adam said nothing.

“If Adam wanted to run that would be his business. Right?”

Adam was the one staring now, as if trying to determine whether or not Kris was real. “Sure. Not that these boots are great for it, but I’ll give it a shot.”

Matt was cornered now. If he said no, it was against the rules: all the sixth and seventh graders could run. It was a matter of principle.

“Fine. He can run in your heat if you like him so much, Allen.”

Kris lined up, nodding once at Adam, who shook his head, stretched a little. Kris turned his eyes to the finish line, feeling the ground fly beneath him as he led the heat, grinning as the yelling increased, then realized someone was coming up behind him, passing him. Kris stared slightly in disbelief as Adam passed him and finished a full two feet in front of him. He walked in a daze to watch the final race, somehow disconnected from the fact that not only was he not in the final; he had been beaten by the newbie. He watched as Matt walked up to Adam.

“So I guess now you want to run in the final race, huh?”

Adam shrugged.

“I don’t know if maybe that’s a good idea.”

Kris stood again. “What’s the matter? You afraid he’s gonna beat you too? Let him run.”

Matt gave him a long look, and Kris knew he was in for it later, but if he couldn’t have the pleasure of beating Matt, someone had to do it. And beat him Adam did. It was exciting to see the confusion on Matt’s face, even in the wake of the idea that everything had changed. Kris started to walk towards the school, ignoring Adam as he caught up.

“Thanks.”

Kris shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re probably the only kid in this school who would have done that.”

“I guess so.”

Kris didn’t want to make waves. He didn’t need change in his life. So he sat next to Allison on the bus ride home, ignoring Adam as best he could and watched him as he ran off the bus and towards the house closest to his own. Graceful. That had been the word he had been looking for. It was as if every movement had a purpose. It was one of the most beautiful things Kris had ever seen.

 **Four: Rulers of Brathia**

Adam won the races every day for the rest of the week. While Kris could console himself with the fact that Matt wasn’t the winner, it was also kind of pointless to run races anymore when you knew who was going to win. So that tradition had died a quick and painless death. But it was Friday.

Miss Clarkson greeted them all at the door as they filed into the cafeteria, the only place where they could spread out. She caught Kris at the door, asking if he was still writing. He nodded, blushing as she pat him on the back, introducing herself to Adam. She announced today they were going to be singing and pulled out a guitar that made Kris ache with envy, strumming it lightly. Kris was always the loudest, because most of the kids pretended like they didn’t care. But Kris cared, and he loved to sing. So when he heard the voice join his, he turned.

Of course he could sing. Adam Lambert could do everything apparently. But the look of complete joy on his face made Kris pause. Anyone who loved music couldn’t be that bad. So they sat together on the bus and talked.

Adam had gone to school in California, been on the track team (of course) and loved to sing.

“You had an actual choir?”

“Yeah,” Adam said. “It was pretty cool.”

“I guess you must hate it here.”

“I don’t know. Wasn’t my choice. My parents decided California was too…. scary.”

Kris gave Adam a look. “Surely they knew it would be worse here.”

“Yeah, but here at least I can keep track of everyone who hates me.”

Kris frowned. How anyone could hate Adam was beyond him. He seemed pretty cool, if a little weird. But what Adam was wasn’t his only problem. Miss Abdul picked his essays often in English, citing his wonderful use of language. She gave him an alternate assignment when he told her he didn’t have a TV to watch some local program on dams. Kris pulled Adam aside, telling him he could have watched his, but Adam shook his head. At recess, Kris was detained by Matt Giraud, who wouldn’t let him by. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell Adam was having an argument with some other kids, but Adam wouldn’t say anything. Later he ignored everyone by simply sitting at the back of the bus. In Michael Sarver’s seat. The eighth grader had absolute authority over the bus, and Kris did not want to think about tangling with him.

“C’mon Adam.”

Adam shook his head, and Kris could hear Michael behind them.

“There is not enough room for you and Sarver here, so get up Adam.”

Michael gave Kris a look like he was going to get him later, but Kris sighed in relief as they got off at their stop without any further incident.

“So you want to hang out?”

Kris looked at Adam. “Sure.”

“Me too!!! Me too!!” Allison jumped up and down.

“Alli, we want to do boy stuff.”

“Awww but Kriiiisssss!!!”

Adam leaned down. “You know what Alli; do you like to play dress up? Cause I still have a bunch of my kid’s theater costumes in my attic if you want.”

Allison nodded her eyes wide. It was amusing to watch her haul the trash bag up the hill. He and Adam walked for awhile, not saying much.

“You know what we need?” Adam said, after a long pause.

“What’s that?”

“Somewhere where there isn’t a Clear Creek Middle School.”

Kris looked at Adam, seeing really for the first time how much it really affects him, being different. Then Kris understood.

“Somewhere that isn’t my house.”

Adam looked back at him nodding once. There’s forest on the other side of the almost dried up river, and Adam immediately names it Brathia, drawing on both his wide knowledge of Tolkien and theater to create their own kingdom, where Adam jokes, much to Kris’s shock, that Kris is King and Adam is Queen.

“NO!” Kris yell, laughing so hard he thought he would never breathe again. “We can both be Crown Princes or something.”

“Fine. The Queen is away and we are tending her kingdom.”

Kris doesn’t know where Adam comes up with it, but every word rings true to him. He stealthily borrows one of his dad’s hammers and builds them a castle in the trees, surprised he remembered so much from when his dad actually spent time with him. It was shit, but it was also beautiful, at least in their minds.

“You should write an anthem or something,” Adam said as they sat in the castle, watching the clouds.

“I can’t,” Kris said. “Not yet. I don’t quite have the rhythms of the trees yet.”

He would have never said that to anyone but Adam. Michael Sarver managed to get Kris kicked off the bus one day, making him walk, and when he arrived in Brathia, Adam was already planning revenge. It was amazing. They really didn’t talk much in school at first, because Adam insisted Kris didn’t need the heat. Kris didn’t care, so the first time Matt asked him about his boyfriend he almost punched him in the face. But that would mean missing recess, when he and Adam would sit quietly and just talk: about music, about life, about Brathia, about nothing at all. It felt good to finally have someone who understood that life sucked, and there wasn’t anything they could do to change it. It was hard though, because Adam had a way of charming everyone, so whenever they came up with something funny it was Kris who got into trouble.

It was easier to be in Brathia. Kris liked Adam’s parents for the most part: they were actual working musicians, which both scared and fascinated Kris. They were nice to Kris, and never said much. But Kris felt uncomfortable in their house. He did not want to bring Adam to his house just yet. Allison and Daniel had mentioned his new friend, but Kris was pretty sure his dad would flip if he ever really met Adam.

So Brathia became his whole world: it was the one bright light in all of his life. He couldn’t quite explain it. It wasn’t just hanging out with Adam. It was the place itself. It had taken on its own magical quality that only existed when the both of them were there. It was simply, home.  
 **Five:** Giants and the Princess

Of course any good fantasy had to have villains. According to Adam, the outskirts were infested with giants. Also known as Michael Sarver.

Allison had brought a special treat to school and of course shown it off. Naturally, Michael took it from her. Of course they had to plan revenge. Adam came up with a plan to make Michael think that Kelli Pickler, head cheerleader was in love with him. It involved a lot of sneaking around and several brushes with almost discovery, but watching Michael as he approached Kelli, biting his lip as Kelli looked at him confusion and laughed in his face. The look of pride on Allison’s face as Michael sat in the back of the bus, red-faced and silent was worth all the guilt Kris felt for doing something so bad.

*

Christmas was possibly the worst time of year. First, it meant no more school, which meant no more Music Appreciation and no more recess planning adventures. Second it meant Kris had to spend time at home, where his siblings would beg for things for Christmas they knew their parents couldn’t afford, and his dad would try to play it off as you couldn’t get your money’s worth on anything anymore. Kris didn’t ask for anything. He really wanted new strings for his guitar, but whatever came his way would be great. Or so he would pretend.

But he wanted to get something for Adam. He was still working on the anthem for Brathia, so that was out. He had nothing. Until he saw the sign on the bus ride home. He carried the mutt in his jacket, shying away as she enthusiastically licked all of his bare skin. She was a mix of spaniel and something, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t even think twice as he tucked her in his shirt and swung across the river. He could have waded through the mud, but the rope was tradition. He waited patiently, as Adam really didn’t celebrate Christmas, but had agreed that presents were definitely in order. The bright look in Adam’s eyes as he first saw the dog was worth all the mud over Kris’s jeans.

“Do I get to name her?” Adam whispered, giggling as she licked him.

“She’s your present”

“Princess Topanga it is.”

“I thought you said you didn’t really watch TV.”

Adam shrugged. “Not anymore. I used to.”

Princess Topanga was currently chasing her own tail. Adam shook his head at her, handed Kris a flat package. Kris tore at the paper, gaped as he saw three bound books of sheet music, blank, ready for his ideas.

“Thank you,” he stammered, “I—“

“Just shut up, okay?” Adam smiled at him, and Kris laughed. It would be his favorite Christmas memory, Topanga yapping as Kris wrote in his book, idly playing with some chords and melodies for the national anthem of Brathia, with Adam alternating between giving him suggestions and chasing after the dog.

At home it was the usual small affair. Kris got a racetrack that broke within a day, spent most of his time playing with Allison and helping her dress her Rocker Barbie, then ignoring Daniel’s whines about everything, because it wasn’t as if they were going to get anything more. After all of the fuss combined with his headache and he didn’t even crack his new books. Yet.

 **Six:** The House and Other Problems

Adam’s dad had decided to start working on the house, since he had free time after recording with some artist for some album. So it was Kris all alone again. Brathia was too quiet without Adam’s stories, without their constant chatter and stupid songs they made up to entertain their “subjects”. Kris was fairly sure the squirrels did not miss them. And home was not much better: either his mom would get on him for moping, or Allison would beg for him to play with her or Daniel would sit next to him and poke him until Kris poked back and Daniel would yell for their mom….

But Adam was so happy. He was excited about spending time with his dad, and really getting to “know” him. Kris recognized jealousy, but tried to keep it down for Adam’s sake. But Adam noticed.

“Well, why don’t you come over if you are so lonely?” Adam sighed, exasperated.

Kris almost smacked himself. Over the next few weeks he used what little knowledge he had gained from his dad to worm his way into Mr. Lambert’s projects. It was the best weeks of his life so far. They all sang (though Adam’s mom always sang purposefully off key, just to annoy them.) Kris would watch in envy when Mr. Lambert (call me Eber, he had said) pulled out a gorgeous guitar and they would make up a song about what they were doing that day. It was then Kris was sure he had been adopted, that the Lamberts were his real parents, that there was no way he belonged with the Allens. Except that he had his dad’s face. But, he could pretend.  
Many weeks later, after many triumphant return trips to Brathia (in which they decided they had been away on “important royal business”) they discovered someone crying in the boy’s room at recess.

“I think its Sarver,” Adam whispered.

“What do we do?” Kris asked, rubbing his hands nervously.

“Maybe we should talk to him.”

“Maybe you should.”

“You do it.” Adam said his voice rising.

“Rock paper scissors?” Kris held out his hand.

Adam sighed as he went in. Kris waited for what seemed like hours. Unfortunately the bell rang. Adam didn’t return for half an hour, but a whispered excuse and a bright smile was all it took for him to pacify Miss Abdul. He waited anxiously all day, until they reached Brathia, and finally broke.

“Sooooo??”

Adam paused, looking down at his shoes. “Michael… he’s actually a pretty cool guy.”

“What?”

Adam looked up. “Did you know about his dad? About the alcohol and the beatings?”

Kris shook his head. “No. Jesus.”

"His two best friends told the entire ninth grade."

“Assholes,” Kris said, disgusted.

“I told him the best way to deal with people like that was to act like nothing was different and pretend to not care until he didn’t care. That’s what I do.”

“Wow.”

“I think I made a friend,” Adam frowned. “Weird.”

“Weird that you made a friend or that it was Sarver?”

“Both"

It hurt Kris to know that Adam didn’t have anyone. That he so desperately wanted friends, but also knew that in Clear Creek, understanding friends would probably be few and far between.  
Later that night Allison told him she knew about Brathia. She didn’t name it specifically, but Kris felt an inner panic that threatened to take over his whole body. But then he made her swear on the Bible not to tell anyone, to keep it secret and he may take her there someday. He wasn’t lying exactly: someday had a vagueness about it that was all too appropriate.

 **Seven** Easter

Easter and Christmas were church holidays. It was the only time Kris’s mom would relent and let them spend the gas money to actually go. Of course Kris’s dad was just let go from his job, so it made things even worse this year. Daniel had to settle for only getting a new tie, while Allison got a brand new dress, if slightly used. Kris had bargained to bring Adam along.

He had argued with Adam about not even being Christian, and Adam had retorted that maybe he would like to convert. Then his mom had argued that Adam was a little too different for their church. Kris swore up and down Adam would and could be just fine. Luckily he hadn’t lied. Adam showed up in a pressed shirt and tie, his hair slicked back, his nails completely nude.

“Why is it you can make that look just as good as the whole emo/grunge/whatever you are look?”

Adam grinned. “Are you flirting with me?”

Kris blushed. “Never mind.”

Kris’s mom and dad were immediately charmed by Adam, who behaved and used ma’am and sir just like Kris had told him to. They exchanged a look that Kris knew said, what a nice boy. On the way to church he and Adam and Allison sang the nicest songs they could think of, sneaking in a little rock to amuse Allison.

Church never changed. The preacher gave almost the exact same sermon as last Easter, and the music… Kris shuddered to think about the music. Adam sat thoughtfully in the truck as his mom talked with the pastor for awhile.

Finally he said, “I liked it.”

“Really?”

“Well, it was an interesting story, no?”

Allison gasped. Kris shrugged. “Well, no offense, but for us, it really isn’t a story you know.”

“To you, yes. I’m not sure about some of the stuff in the Bible.”

Allison interrupted,” But if you don’t believe in the Bible you go to hell, Adam. What would happen if you die?”

Adam grinned. “Don’t worry I’ll be fine.”

 **Eight:** Evil Spirits

It rained for the next week. Finally the two of them decided Brathia needed them and headed out anyway. Princess Topanga both loved and hated it, alternately running around and yapping and then curling close to Adam. The river was beginning to rise as it did every year, and with each passing day, Kris’s feet got closer and closer to touching water as he swung across.

When rain began to leak though the roof of the castle, Adam hauled them into a clearing, offering a prayer to the ancestors of Brathia.

“O great ancestors, heed our call, for this rain has started to pervade our kingdom and weaken the spirits of our subjects.”

Kris shuffled his feet as Adam stared at him. “Yes, um, o great ones, please.”

Kris felt kind of ashamed then, because all he wanted in that moment was to be at home, in front of his TV with some hot chocolate and a blanket. He was unworthy of such a special place. But Adam turned and suggested just what Kris was thinking, so he felt slightly better. Before crossing, Kris looked back; slightly afraid of what he saw: Brathia, dark and foreboding, hidden slightly by the curtain of rain, closing in on itself.

He turned back, racing Adam back to his house, even though he knew he would lose, Adam still as graceful as ever even in the mud and wet.

 **Nine:** The Perfect Day

Kris was sweeping the back porch trying to come up with valid reasons not to go to Brathia. It wasn’t that he was afraid—yes he was—but it just wasn’t the same place in this weather. He was almost sure Adam would understand, but sometimes he wished he had just a smidgen more of bravery. Okay a lot more bravery. He laughed at the thought of telling Adam he wanted courage, and the epic songs that would result from that. It was there Allison found him

“Hey, phone’s for you.”

Kris stared. No one called him. Even Adam would just walk over to talk with him.

“It sounds like that teacher who comes on Fridays.”

Kris walked slowly to the phone and picked it up. “Miss Clarkson?” Kris whispered, his voice more strangled than he would have liked.

“Hello, Kris,” the familiar voice sends heat to his cheeks. “This weather is terrible, right?”

“Yeah,” he blurted, wondering if that was the best response he could have come up with.

“So there’s a blues festival going on and I was thinking of going.”

“The one in Richmond?” There. That was a complete sentence.

“Yes. I’m meeting a friend and his son there and I was wondering if you would be interested. In a field trip.”

Kris is fairly sure he is gaping at the phone. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You probably should ask one of your parents.”

“Oh, yes. Sorry.”

He ran to his parent’s room and got sleepy permission from his mom. Then he waited anxiously until Miss Clarkson pulled up. He ran to her car, just in case his mom had woken up and changed her mind. He smiled at Miss Clarkson, excited as they travelled down the road, seeing the skyline of what to him was a large city. Miss Clarkson would probably think him a complete amateur though. He briefly thought he should have asked if Adam could have come, but held a secret pleasure in that it was just him and Miss Clarkson.

“You ever been to a music festival before?” She asked as they drove.

Kris shook his head. Miss Clarkson smiled.

“A music concert?”

“Ma’am,” Kris paused. “I’ve never even been to Richmond.”

Miss Clarkson laughed, “Well then, I guess this makes me important after all.”

They did meet up with Miss Clarkson’s friend, but Kris did not remember it. He just saw wall to wall people, with instruments everywhere. He was like a kid, bouncing from one booth to another, almost crying as one woman sang about love so bad it tore her soul apart, bopping the next minute to a groove he couldn’t wait to get down on paper. He almost peed himself when one of the guitarists let him play, grinning foolishly as Miss Clarkson and several others gathered around. He played something completely not blues, but still received mild applause.

She paid for lunch, not even hearing Kris’s argument that he wasn’t hungry. Mostly he just kept his ears open and his mouth shut, absorbing everything he could and filing it away for later. During the car ride home, they didn’t say much, except a brief comment about how the sun had finally come out.

“That was great, Miss Clarkson,” he said, getting out of the car.

“I expect new music on Friday.”

Kris grinned at her, running into his house. Everyone was in the living room, and his mother broke down in tears as he walked through the door.

“What’s going on?” He asked, confused.

“I told you he didn’t go anywhere with Adam today,” Allison spoke up.

“WHAT?”

Daniel sighed. “Your boyfriend died today and Mom thought you had too.”

 **Ten:** Disbelief

Kris bolted out the door then, running towards Adam’s house, ignoring the yells from his family, the sound of his father’s truck. He climbed in the truck after collapsing in a pile of mud, his breath choking him. The words _Adam-dead-Adam-dead_ kept repeating in his head, a rhythmic motive he wanted to forget.

He woke up the next morning still in his clothes, shocked that his parents had let him, remembering a terrible nightmare in which Adam had died. But that wasn’t at all possible.

Something nagged at him, so he thought it might be best to get dressed and run over to Adam’s house, maybe visit Brathia in the wee hours of the morning. He had never tried to write music for a sunrise, so it would be a good experience. Then he would tell Adam about the blues festival, apologize for not asking him.

“Its okay” Adam would say “You name the music festival, I’ve been to it. My parents are musicians, you know.”

And they would laugh and move one. Then Kris could share all of his fears about Brathia and how it had looked cold and uninviting the last time he had looked at it. He shivered in his bed. Maybe it was better to remember happy things, he thought as he slipped back into sleep.  
Daylight woke him up, and Kris jumped out of bed, anxious because there were chores to be done. He went into the kitchen, where Daniel was eating, saw Allison outside trailing his dad, who was picking up branches in the yard.

“Now sit down and eat some breakfast, Kristopher,” his mom said gently.

Kris sat, digging into his food, wondering why it was so quiet, why she hadn’t yelled at him for sleeping in so late.

“You don’t even care,” Daniel accused.

“What?”

“If my best friend died, I’d be bawling my eyes out.”

Kris’s stomach curled up in a tight ball.

“Daniel Allen! Just hush! People deal with grief in different ways.”

Kris ignored their arguing, only barley registering his father’s hand on his back when he came in. He kind of wanted more eggs, but wasn’t sure if it was okay to ask.

“Your mom and I think it would be a good idea if you came with us today. To pay our respects.”

Kris looked at his dad.

“Why? Who died?”

Allison gasped, and his parents exchanged a look. His dad kneeled down, looking Kris in the eyes.

“I know things have been hard lately, right?”

Kris nodded; a lump in his throat as yesterday came crashing back on him.

“If you don’t want to go, or if it hurts—“

“No, Dad,” Kris spoke up. “I should go. Someone has to watch Princess Topanga.”

 **Eleven:** GONE

Kris didn’t want to walk into the house, but found himself surrounded by strange adults, all of them too polished to be from anywhere but out of town. Kris held Topanga in his arms, wishing that it was still a dream, that Adam would open the door. He heard whispers of conversation, saw the ladies dabbing their eyes, the men holding back.

 _I’m not crying_ he thought idly wandering into the black room, leaning against the doorway. It was there Adam’s mom found him, hugged him from the side.

“You know Kris,” her voice was thick and broken; “he loved you. Not… well… you were the best friend he ever had. I think you saved him.”

Leila sounded like a bad actress in some TV movie, but the sentiment was there. He watched carefully as she talked with his mom, talked about the actual service. Leila mentioned cremation and California, and Kris went blank.

He didn’t even get to see Adam again. Adam was _his_ friend. Hadn’t Leila said so? Good thing they were going back to California. Maybe they should have stayed there. Because then Adam wouldn’t have betrayed him by leaving him. Then Adam wouldn’t have dared to try to go to Brathia without him. How dare he leave? He had swept in, taught Kris that being different was okay after all and stranded him.

Later he found himself running- _maybe now I’m the fastest in the entire seventh grade_ —towards his house, angry tears finally falling. He pushed Allison out of his way; ignored Daniel’s heckling from the living room. He grabbed his music books and the old battered guitar. He ran back to the river, first tearing out the blank pages of sheet music, watching as they floated for a minute, sinking in the current. Before tearing into the notebooks filled with his scribbles, he hefted his guitar, surprised when he couldn’t move his arms.

“That would be the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.” His dad sat down, laying the guitar out of Kris’s reach.

“I don’t care anymore.”

His father pulled him close, patting his back, not saying a word as Kris finally broke.

“I hate him,” he sobbed.

“Sucks don’t it?”

Kris nodded, realizing for the first time, his father was really addressing him as an equal. “Do you really think people go to hell if they don’t believe in the Bible?”

“Are you worrying about Adam?”

Kris nodded, “I mean in church—“

“The church is nice, but it isn’t God. Remember the book of John. _Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love._ God doesn’t send people to hell for not believing in the Bible, son. Especially young boys.”

Kris nodded. “I don’t hate him.”

“I know that.”

His dad stood, helping Kris up. “You know your grandma used to be a fine pianist.”

“Really?”

They talked all the way back to the house, where Allison held him tight and told him never to scare her again. Later, the Lamberts drove by, asking him to watch the dog while they flew to California. Even though his parents had a no pet rule, this time it was allowed.

 **Twelve:** The Bridge

That Saturday, he ventured outside again, Topanga nipping at his heels. Everything was bright and green and smelled fresh. Adam would probably make up some story about the spirits being happy and renewing life for the kingdom. Kris was just glad it had stopped raining. He found a downed tree near a shallow part of the river, carefully crossed it into their world.

It was quiet. But there was no evidence that Brathia had lost one of its Princes, that there was mourning to be done. _Guess I’m gonna be King after all_ Kris thought. But he had no words to say: Adam was the best at that. Then he began to gather early flowers, humming what he had written so far of the national anthem. He found the grove where they had prayed to the spirits earlier, and spoke.

“I know Adam was best with words, so I’ll keep it short. Prince Adam died this week, and all of Brathia mourns for him, no one more than I. I hope he has been guided by the Spirits to where he belongs, that he can finally find peace.”

He lay down the flowers, walking back to the river when he heard the cry.

“KRIS! I’m stuck!!!”

He ran to his makeshift crossing; found Allison clinging to the tree, halfway in between worlds.

“Hold on Alli,” he whispered, carefully stepping onto the branch. He crawled to her. “Take my hand.”

“I can’t, I’m scared.”

“Of course you are! How do you think I feel? I’m not gonna let you go. I swear.”

She nodded, grabbing his hand, and for a minute, he held his sitter close, their hearts beating wildly. He carried her slowly across.

“Why’d you follow me?”

Allison shrugged. “I always wanted to see where you and Adam had so much fun. I liked him. He was funny.”

“Yeah, you and he would have been great buddies,” Kris hugged her, holding her all the way home.

*

Monday at school, even though he knew Adam was gone, it was still disappointing to not see him at the bus stop, to talk on the bus. Even Adam’s desk was gone. Kris was angry that everyone seemed eager to move on when he had barely acknowledged the event. Not that anyone in the school had even bothered with Adam except for him. None of them were worth one bit.  
So when Mrs. Abdul asked him to step in the hall before class started, he sighed.

“Are you okay Kris?”

If there was one question he was tired of, that was it. But then he looked at Miss Abdul, and saw the tears in her eyes.

“When I lost my husband,” she laughed a little, choking back tears. “I hated that question. So I’m not going to ask questions, ok? Because Adam…” she dabbed at her eyes, “Adam was one of a kind, and both of us knew that. No one else did, did they?”

Kris shook his head.

“So if you ever need anything, you come find me, ok?”

He nodded. School was actually okay. When Matt tried to be his usual brand of bully, Kris was amused to find Michael Sarver standing next to him, holding Matt high against a wall and ignoring his screams.

“You okay?” Michael asked.

Kris nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.”

It was then Kris realized that even though Adam was gone, his impact would always be there. After all, Kris had always been different, but now he embraced it, knew that no matter what, it didn’t matter what people thought. What mattered was that he was happy with who he was. Adam had taught him that. And he was a Prince of the Realm, and Adam had done that. He had reminded Kris that there was so much to get out of the world, even in Clear Creek, Nowhere. He just had to start with himself.

*

Adam’s parents showed up Wednesday with a moving truck. They had moved here for Adam, and now… Leila handed Kris a box full of sheet music and staff paper, saying it was Adam’s and he would have wanted Kris to have it. Then she handed him a guitar case.

“Mrs. Lambert,” Kris protested.

“No. It was Adam’s, not that he played, but it was there for him. And you’ll get us out of it. Anyway, I’m taking Topanga with me, so consider it a fair trade. Please.”

Kris nodded, unable to argue. “Hey, you know those planks you’d planned on using for the deck?”

“Yeah?”

“You think I can use those?”

“Sure.”

Kris stayed on the road until he couldn’t make out the truck anymore, then hauled the box and guitar home. He wanted to open the case, but wasn't ready yet. He rifled through the box, finding random bits and pieces he was sure Mrs. Lambert hadn’t known were there. At the bottom we a bottle of nail polish. Kris held it up, held it close.

The next weekend he spent at the creek, building. No one at school said anything about his one black thumbnail. Even his parents didn’t look at it. Except Allison.

“Where have you been going, Kris?”

“Well, it’s kind of a secret. Can you keep one?”

Allison nodded solemnly. Kris took her hand, pulled out the bottle of nail polish, grabbing her thumb. “The first thing you have to know is that Brathia is in mourning, and this is how we show it. How we show that we still carry Prince Adam in our hearts.”

Allison looked at him. “What’s Brathia?”

“I’ll show you,” he said, picking up his old battered guitar, leading Allison to the creek.

“You built a bridge,” she said. “Is that what’s on the other side? B-b-b”

“Brathia,” Kris said, kneeling. “But you can’t tell anyone. Because, the thing is, Brathia has always had a queen. But she’s been gone for awhile.”

“Oh. What’s that music you are playing?”

“The national anthem.”

“Are there words?”

Kris shook his head. “The music is all they need.”

“Who?”

“The citizens of Brathia, can’t you see them?” Kris asked, looking across the river and into the forest.

“Where?” Allison peeked across the bridge, her eyes wide.

“You see, I kind of told them that the queen was coming today.”

“She is?”

“Uh-huh.”

He took Allison’s hand, led her across. “Can you hear them whispering?”

Allison nodded. “What are they saying?”

“They’re saying the Queen is very beautiful. They are glad she is home.”

Allison looked at Kris for a moment, surprise and glee showing on her face. “Me??? They think I’m the Queen?”

“Shhh, you are the Queen. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Let them celebrate, for there has been much mourning of late…”  



End file.
